


nivanfield christmas

by veomia



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: AU where everyone is alive and happy and friends and in love, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 07:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5531330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veomia/pseuds/veomia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Chris and Piers' turn to host Christmas this year - that shouldn't be too difficult, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! I am not proud of what I have done, but this fic has been written and re-written for at least two years now and it's about time I posted it.  
> 

_Three days to go._

 

"Do you know what? I have had one of THE most shitty days in the world," Piers moaned, kicking the door shut behind him. "The traffic was awful, I only just made it round the shops before closing."

He gestured towards the door as he deposited the various carrier bags and boxes on to the table with a sigh. "And if you dare tell me it's my own fault for leaving it to the last minute, I will murder you. I am officially done with today."

Chris looked up from the TV. Corny Christmas films had been playing all evening, turning his brain to a festive mush while he waited for Piers to come home. It was dumb, it was very unlike him, but it was just nice not to do anything for a couple of hours but chill with a movie or two.

He raised an eyebrow. "Fair enough."

The tiny living room was looking more festive than it had ever done when he'd lived alone. Two years had passed since Piers had officially moved in, and with him he had bought the Christmas spirit. Although their tree was barely taller than Chris, it was painstakingly decorated to perfection, adorned in red and gold - initially scorned by an apathetic Chris, but even he had come to appreciate it. A boring spruce with a string of lights would have been more than enough for him, but he couldn't help but share in Piers' excitement a tiny bit while he decorated, humming along to the carols on the radio as he arranged garlands of foliage around the hearth. Given neither of them managed to spend much time in the apartment during the rest of the year, it was nice to have a cosy home to come back to over the holidays.

Still, it was disconcerting, all this relaxation. He was used to jetting off to some far-flung war zone over the winter, armed to the teeth with all manners of combat gear, but no - this year the world of Bioterror seemed to be oddly quiet. He'd traded his assault rifle for a cool beer and a warm fire this year. Still half expecting a call to hop on the next plane to Asia, he couldn't quite bring himself to switch off his phone, leaving it on the nearby coffee table. At the very least, they might've called either one of them in to do paperwork.

Piers had it worse. He was always _doing_ something, it just came naturally to him. Probably why he'd taken it on himself to single-handedly take on Christmas. At least Chris could abandon his responsibilities without too much guilt, spending the entire day devoted to de-stressing. Which involved a leisurely trip to the gym, some good food and drink and the TV. Decidedly less stressful than tackling the crowds of Christmas shoppers or making enormous lists for grocery shops.

Piers kicked off his boots and threw his earmuffs away, vaulting the back of the sofa to curl up next to Chris, still huddled in his parka. 

"Did you sort out the lifts for tomorrow?" a voice came from under all the scarves and coats. 

Chris groaned in reply, pressing his cheek to Piers' hair, still damp from the snow. Ah. So he was supposed to do _something_ today.

"Chriiis-" Piers shook him off, pulling back his hood. Chris looked back at him sheepishly. Of course he'd forgotten. Chris Redfield may be a brilliant tactician and coordinator on the battlefield, but when it came to organising an event - Christmas for all their friends in this case - he was hopeless. This was the man who would have forgotten about his own sister's birthday if it wasn't for his fastidious boyfriend. 

"Tell you what," Piers flashed a grin. "If we get this all figured out, I'll give you an early present."

Chris smirked, moving his hand to run a thumb across the edge of Piers' jaw. "What kind of present are we talking here?"

"Wouldn't be a surprise if I told, would it?" Piers smirked, eyes flicking from Chris' own to his mouth in what he hoped was an obvious suggestion. 

"That is the worst bribe I've ever heard." Chris snorted, but still snuggled closer, kissing Piers on the underside of his chin, happily off the hook. "I am appalled you'd speak to your captain like that."

Piers laughed. "Not my captain when we're on holiday leave, if we're being technical. Plus, anything works on you."

"That's a fair point." Chris shrugged, eyes flashing mischievously. 

Piers sneaked a quick kiss on the corner of Chris' mouth before pushing off the sofa. This was his biggest weakness, stupid non-serious squabbles that often ended on the floor with definitely fewer clothes involved. Best stop now before things got too far. Not that he'd refuse...

"Right, come on, let's do this," Shaking bad thoughts from his mind, Piers grabbed the address book and a notepad from the coffee table. This fire - thank god Chris had at least remembered to put a fire on - warmed his back as he pulled his feet up to sit cross legged. 

"Did you hear back from Jill?" Piers hummed, chewing the top of a pen and frowning at the address book in his lap. 

Chris nodded quickly. "She phoned earlier to say she IS coming down tomorrow after all," he announced with a hint of pride. "And she volunteered to do the final food shop, which is good because I don't want any part of that."

That earned him a nod of approval from Piers, smirking as he scribbled a note. "Yeah sure, me and Jill are on food then. Looks like you did do something today after all, not just lazing around listening to Michael Buble."  

"Very funny." Rolling his eyes, Chris flicked off the music playing over the speakers. "Anyway, Jill's all sorted, and she's bringing Carlos." Piers' face lit up as he pulled one back. "And Claire's invited Steve. And I know what you're thinking, so I speak on behalf of everyone else coming: please keep it calm over this trip. I know what you three get like when you're together."

Piers feigned disbelief, blinking innocently. "I have no idea what you're talking about!" 

That earned him a stern look. "I just pity Jill having to be in the car with the two of them for five hours." Chris sighed. "So tomorrow she's picking up Carlos, and Steve from his mom's house, correct? Then the three of them are driving down the rest of the way."

"That girl must have the patience of a saint," Piers grinned. "And, see? We're getting somewhere." he added, putting the names on the list. "Jake and Sherry, I'm pretty sure Claire said they were coming down on Christmas Eve so we don't have to worry about them. Yet."

"Which is good; having you and Jake in such an enclosed space would definitely wind up with some sort of argument." Chris tossed a cushion playfully in Piers' direction. "I know what you two are like, just please leave the carving to Leon this time. We don't want another Thanksgiving on our hands."

There was a growl from Piers as he caught the pillow before it smacked him in the face. "That wasn't my fault, Jake stared it-"

"And thank god Ada finished it." Chris said firmly. "We would have had World War Three if it wasn't for her stepping in when she did."

"Jake was doing it wrong. As always." Piers huffed childishly, but Chris knew he wasn't really upset. 

"Just for our sake. We want to have a calm, peaceful trip with absolutely _no casualties_. C'mon, it's Christmas. It'll be nice to have everyone together again." Chris said wistfully. Maybe he was more festive than he was willing to admit. The Christmas films must have got to him. "Speaking of my sister, do I have to pick her up tomorrow?"

Piers shook his head. "I've got it written down that I'm collecting her, the train gets in at-" he flicked back in the notepad. "Seven. In the morning. You'd never be awake, so I thought it would be best for everyone if it was me doing the journey."

Touched, Chris nudged him affectionately on the shoulder with his foot. "You think of everything, don't you? So organised."

Piers smiled up at him. "Wouldn't want poor old Claire sitting all alone on the platform whilst her brother snoozes through all three alarms."

That made him groan. "One time... That was one time!" 

"Anyway! As I was saying," Piers continued matter-of-factly. "Claire is arriving tomorrow, then Leon is coming down the  _next_  day - Christmas Eve - to help move all our stuff to the cabin. He's got his big Chevy truck, so that'll help with suitcases and stuff. Billy and Rebecca are in Australia with the Burtons, so they're not coming, but apart from them, everyone else is either meeting us there or coming down just for the day. We're a big party, ya know."

It was true. Even though they'd drawn the short straw to host the festivities, Chris and Piers' apartment was tiny, barely big enough to accommodate the party arriving tomorrow. As luck would have had it, the Redfield parents had left their children a cabin up north near the lake, so Chris had evoked his rights to the property for the week. It was picturesque, especially when it snowed, and given the current snow storm, there would bound to be a decent covering up there. There was a little village within walking distance, where every other shop sold mulled wine or roasted chestnuts - every single Christmas cliche imaginable. To cap it all, there was gondola station connecting the village to the snowy slopes up on the mountain, for those among their party who were partial to a spot of skiing. It was plenty big enough for everyone, and with a twinge of saddness, he wondered if there'd ever been a large Redfield family to fill the cheerful little cabin. 

Still, the other half of the remaining Redfield duo was arriving tomorrow, and Jill had always been like a sister to him too. Leon - he'd known him for so long, he was practically family, and Sherry the same, who was basically raised by his sister.

And of course, never forgetting Piers, wonderful, organised, loving Piers. He'd trade a crowded cabin of relatives for Piers any day in a heartbeat. 

Yeah, the Redfields may have gone, but that didn't mean their family was too. 

Piers looked at him with those knowing eyes of his. "Whatcha thinking?" he rested his chin on Chris' knee. 

"Nothin'," Chris twiddled the drawstring of his hoodie absent-mindedly. "Just... thinking of where all these people are going to sleep in this tiny box flat." 

"Well," Piers began slowly, hopping up on to his lap. Chris bit the inside his cheek in effort not to grin. "I'm afraid we're going to have to give up our bed to guests. Who you gonna let in there?"

Planning at its finest, Piers was sorting out sleeping arrangements whilst unzipping Chris' hoodie. 

"Uhm, I don't mind, you pick." he coughed lightly, not really paying attention to anything other than watching Piers bite his lip in concentration as he unbuttoned his shirt. 

Piers stopped. "Nope, you don't get off the hook without making at least one decision." He folded his arms in mock defiance and pouted, still straddled over Chris' lap. 

"Fine, Claire and Steve." Chris whined, pulling off Piers' jacket and clamping his hands down on his hips to stop him from moving. "Can I have my present now?"

"What about Jill and Carlos?" Piers dropped a kiss on the top of Chris' head, pushing away again. 

"Mmm, spare bedroom," Humming against Piers' neck, Chris edged a hand down the back of his waistband in an attempt to spur him back into action. 

"Aah, good choice, better bathroom, though only a single bed?" Piers obliged, tilting his head for an open-mouthed kiss, indulging Chris for a couple of seconds before breaking away leaving their mouths an inch apart. Sorry Jill, his moment of distraction had condemned her to sharing the tiny bed, barely big enough for one person. Oh well, he'd have to find a way to rectify his bad decisions when he wasn't so _preoccupied_.

"And what about us?"

Stupidly impatient, Chris groaned, tipping Piers back on to the sofa and diving on top of him, assaulting his neck with his mouth. 

"I don't care where we sleep, floor, sofa, the bath! I just wanna 'sleep' with you now..." he laughed in between kisses, noting the exasperated expression Piers was giving him. Always one step too far with the stupid one liners, and he wasn't sure who Piers was more infuriated at - Chris, for trying them on, or himself, for giving in to them. His facade cracked fast enough though, crossing his ankles behind Chris' waist with a snort. 

"Fine, sofa it is." he stuck his icy hands up Chris' shirt in punishment, making him yelp. 

"You're still freezing? How is that physically possible?" Chris cried, cringing away from his touch.

"Fine then, no foreplay for you." 

"I was KIDDING!"

Chris suppressed a laugh as he brought their mouths together, kissing Piers' chapped lips, fingertips brushing across his cold face. 

"'S'warmer in front of the fire," Piers broke away for air. "Plus you're like my damn personal heater."

"It's what I'm here for." Chris' voice was huskier than he'd intended. "The only real reason you keep me around, huh?" Piers' wandering hands were keeping him going, and impatiently he yanked off his shirt, eagerness building in an all-too-obvious manner. 

On the floor, clothes coming off like lovesick teenagers - how was it that they always ended up like this?

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes OOC to the next level, but I'm just going with it okay, please forgive me uwu

_Two days to go._

 

Alarms are always shrill. Especially when they're too early. 

Piers groaned, giving the device a whack for good measure. Chris' sleep, naturally, continued undisturbed, despite the racket. Soft snores accompanied by the steady rise and fall of his big chest affirmed pleasant dreams; his arm still draped over Piers' waist and duvet kicked off like a kid. Which, pleasingly, left little to the imagination. 

Piers grinned to himself as he ran a hand through his bed head. If he wasn't the luckiest bastard alive, he didn't know who was. 

It was still dark outside when he stumbled into the shower. As usual, his aching body protested at the movement as he fumbled with the temperature. A brutal but quick blast of lukewarm water would wake him up a bit. Annoyingly enough, he'd barely managed four hours of sleep, although that was at least _half_ his fault.

The first shirt in the drawer - _his_ drawer, to note - happened to be one of Chris'. It was too big, but he was too tired and running too late to afford to care. Piers pulled it on anyway, wriggling back into last night's jeans and sneakers. His shirt didn’t look that disastrous tucked into his waistband.

Ruffling a towel through his damp hair on his way to the kitchen, he fumbled for the light switch.

There was a loud _crunch_.  

“Shit.” He hissed, drawing his foot away.

It was china. Thank god he wasn’t bare-footed, or else he’d have a bleeding foot to contend with as well as being late. It took a moment to register where it had come from, following the shards to the table by the living room door.

Ah. The vase. _That_ must‘ve been what Chris had knocked them in to on the way into their bedroom last night. There had been a definite smash at some point…

With a faint groan to himself, he glanced at his watch. He was running late enough as it was; it was up to Chris now to clean up. Which was a risky decision, given his track record of cleaning up. Or lack thereof.

Piers hopped over the debris. Luckily the kitchen was still tidy from the preemptive clean he’d managed yesterday. Fussing with coffee and toast, he made sure to leave a pot brewing so that Chris could have his daily caffeine intake before the guests arrived. 

A quick scribbled note later and he was out the door, snatching his car keys off the counter in the dim light of dawn. Provided there was no traffic, he should get there in good time. Maybe stopping for flowers would be a nice idea? 

With a bit of luck, it was going to be a good Christmas.

 

\--

 

        CLEAN UP PLEASE - you broke that vase last night, not my fault!!

Coffees in the pot, help yourself 

Move our shit out of the bedroom – and feed the fish please

        P x

 

Bless him. Chris padded round the kitchen, humming along to some old Christmas song serenading the empty kitchen as he fixed a coffee. The clock was just coming up to half past the hour - Piers should be back anytime soon with his sister. Better start tidying up.

Living with Piers was full of benefits. The guy was outstandingly tidy; there were never any old cartons of takeaway Chinese littering the countertops, as there had been when they'd first met, nor were there mounds of dirty washing spilling out of the laundry basket. Chris could remember the first time he'd brought Piers back to his apartment. It had been a state, with empty beer bottles crowding every surface and a trash can well overdue for emptying. Piers had taken one look inside and immediately shoved Chris away - who was always impatient on first dates; shoving his poor partner against the door before he'd even opened it, before trailing after him, whining about how “it’s not that bad” and “it could be worse, there could be mold”. Ignoring him, Piers had stomped over to sweep the cans and glasses into a bin bag, just to make space to sit on the countertop. He would have given him a whole lecture if Chris hadn’t shut him up with a kiss heated enough to distract him. Great first impressions, huh? 

So luckily, Piers' note's request of "cleaning" just involved picking up scattered clothes from last night and transferring the dishes from sink to washing machine. 

The vase was another matter. Whose fault that it got broken could be argued about later, but stumbling back to the bedroom late last night had resulted in it being knocked off the table, smashed to little chunks of china on the hallway floor. Shame. Helena had bought it them as a moving-in present. He swept in all into a dust pan. 

Marking his motivation down to festive spirit, he did make an effort to wrestle the vacuum cleaner from the tiny utility room, giving the hall and living room a quick once-over for good measure. Mariah Carey’s voice kept him company in the background as he edged into the bedroom, tossing more clothes into the open drawer to clear a path. 

Since Claire was getting this room for the night, he made sure to change the sheets, snagging a handful of clean underwear and the blanket from the foot of the bed for good measure. All the empty mugs were moved off the bedside table too. The photo of his team with Jill and Piers sat there in a frame, next to his alarm clock and radio. He picked it up, flicking the vacuum cleaner off with his toe. 

It was a stupid photo; someone had snapped it at the BSAA facility down the road. They'd had a party, some anniversary ball, and of course, all three of them had gotten wonderfully tipsy on the open bar, judging by rosy cheeks and flutes of champagne. Jill looked stunning as usual in a dark blue dress, her signature colour, arm hooked round Piers’ neck, his suit and bow tie on point, handsome as usual.

He smiled. Two of the most important people in his life, their dorky faces were one of the first things he saw in the morning, cheering him up on the roughest days.

Chris looked at his own little image, also definitely drunk, gesturing towards the camera whilst trying to get the attention of someone just out of the shot - a pretty lady in a short lilac dress, dark skin and brown hair. Familiar.  

Shit.

The photo dropped out of his hands as he scrambled towards the phone. In all their careful planning and organising, they'd only gone and forgotten not one, but two people.

"PIERS," Chris' call was picked up on the second ring; he didn't even give him time to speak. "WE FORGOT-"

"Chris?" a female voice cut him off, instantly recognisable. "Piers is driving, it's Claire. Calm down, what have you forgotten?"

"WE FORGOT SHEVA, CLAIRE." he heard Piers swear loudly down the line. He took a deep breath, laughing shakily. Trust them. "Ask him what time their flight gets in."

He waited for Claire to relay the message, twiddling the cord of the phone anxiously. When she came back, he could tell by her voice that his sister was not impressed, but there was a faint hint of laughter in her tone. "He says nine, which is in like, twenty minutes. We're not going to be back in time, and you’re closer to the airport than we are anyway. Can you go and pick her up?"

He was already juggling keys and jackets before she'd finished, hopping on one foot to wriggle into a boot with the phone squished between his ear and shoulder. Thank god the extension cord stretched all the way into the bedroom. "I'm on it, tell him not to worry." 

"Not worry?! Chris, I can't believe we both forgot!" he heard Piers shouting into the receiver on the other end, accompanied by Claire's giggles. "And don't you dare speed, I don't want you coming home in an ambulance, it's Christmas for christ's sakes!" 

"I won't I promise love you both bye!" Chris blurted, tossing the phone back on the hook and sprinting out the door with keys in hand. 

At least he'd managed to tidy up. But the fish, the poor things, would have to go without breakfast today. 

 

\--

 

"So what your saying is..."

"Yep, Chris forgot to pick me and Josh up from the airport."

Jill sniggered, patting a hand on Sheva's shoulder in sympathy. Sheva and Josh were huddled up together on the small sofa with her; the flat had gotten very crowded, very quickly. the small living room was already crammed full with people and laughter. 

She shrugged. "To be honest, I'm not even surprised."

"What are we not being surprised about?" Carlos' voice rang from the kitchen as he wondered over, squishing up in the armchair with Claire, bowl of popcorn nestled under one arm. 

Sheva laughed softly, leaning in to Josh. "We don't mind that much, but our hosts might have got a bit mixed up with the arrangements."

Carlos let out a whoop of laughter, snatching the TV remote off of Steve, seated on the floor in front of Claire. "Yeah that really isn't surprising. 'Specially knowing big bro Redfield over here." 

"So how's it been over in Africa? I can't believe it's been nearly two years since we last caught up!" Jill tucked her feet up, cradling a cup of coffee. 

"I know, and it has been over five since we worked together," Josh smiled at Jill. 

She grimaced. "I was hardly working with you guys, most of the time it was you working to stop me." It was horrible thinking about what Wesker had made her do, but with a pang of guilt came the reminder that she'd come to terms with it long ago with the help of her friends. They really did make a good team, even outside of work.

Shaking his head, Josh spoke kindly. "That is not true. We managed to save those dearest to us through our teamwork; if it had not been for your help, Sheva and Chris could have lost their lives." 

A small smile twitched at the corners of Jill's mouth. Josh could make anything better with that calm voice of his. "And it's a good thing we did save them, Sheva especially," changing the subject, she peered at Sheva's hand. "I heard a little birdy say something about and engagement?"

Claire gasped, elbowing Carlos' bowl out of his hand. "Engagement?! No one told me anything about an engagement!"

All the attention brought Sheva to a blush. She and Josh shared a quick, self-conscious smile before she lifted her left hand to Claire. A small, glittering diamond, set on a dainty silver ring adorned her fourth finger. 

"We didn't want to make a fuss-"

Claire's delighted shriek cut her off, and she threw herself forwards, arms locked around Sheva's neck with a gushing cry of congratulations. 

"So you finally decided to make an honest woman of our Sheva, eh Josh?" Jill smirked, reaching over the two girls to slap him on the shoulder affectionately. "Nice one."

"We had bets it was either you guys or the boys," occupying Claire's vacant armchair, Steve snatched a handful of popcorn from Carlos. "To propose first, I mean. Cough up bud." 

Still perched on the armrest, Carlos shrugged dismissively. "Looks like I gave your brother too much credit, Claire. Woulda thought he'd at least've popped the big question by Christmas." 

Jill shook her head. "My money was on Jake and Sherry, and since we haven't heard from them, I'm still in the game-" 

The squabbling chatter rose louder, and from his point of refuge in the open kitchen, Piers chuckled to himself. "Have you heard what they're talking about?" he threw over his shoulder, reaching into the oven for the lasagna. 

Chris emerged from the bathroom, paused halfway through hopelessly wrestling a festive jumper on. "Steve and Carlos haven't broken something, have they?" he said with a frown.

Piers reached over to straighten the hem of the sweater with a shake of the head. "Nope. Never mind, nice jumper by the way. Early present?" he stood back to admire the design. Polar bears. How fitting.

"Yep, courtesy of our girl Jill over here," he gestured fondly in her direction. "You've got one too apparently; you're in this with me whether you like it or not." he leaned back on against the dishwasher, eyes on the little living room where the noise levels had reached a new pitch. Claire, Carlos and Steve were waving dollar notes around with dramatic gestures, with Jill making a sneaky a grab for the money. 

"Seriously though, what's going on with them? A bet or something?" he raised his voice on the last question, loud enough to catch Steve's attention. 

"Yeah, on who was going to propose first out of all you lovebirds," he sniggered, holding his wager out of Claire's reach. "Josh and Sheva beat you to it, sorry guys!"

"I keep saying, Leon and might've pulled his head out of his ass long enough to ask Ada!" Claire dug her elbow into Steve's side.

Jill nodded in agreement. "She's right, you can't call the bet off without hearing from everyone first, Burnside, so you hand that money back right now-"

The conversation descended back into shouts, with shrieking and grabbing left right and center. Chris just threw his hands up in despair, turning back to Piers.

"Animals." He muttered. Then, noticing the expression on his partner's face falter a fraction, "You okay?"

A tinge of red flushed to Piers' cheeks. "I'm fine, it's just really warm in here, with all the people and the oven and everything." he glanced away, lingering over the cooling dish. 

"Piers," Chris' tone was quieter, more tentative than before. "You're not..."

"I said I'm fine." Piers repeated, firmly. 

In that pause, there was tension in the air between them. Chris swallowed. Hard. He knew what he _wanted_ to say, sure, but something - possibly common sense or his voice of reason, whatever it was - stopped him. 

He’d stalled too long. The moment had passed.

“Everything’s fine.”

Piers still wouldn't meet Chris' eye, but he turned back to him with a quick smile. He brushed past him with lasagna in hand, the air rushing past Chris as he silently cursed himself.

_Stupid, stupid, why didn't you say something-_

"Food's ready everyone!" Piers voice was light, but Chris could sense the uneasiness. He followed his partner with wine bottle and salad bowl in hand. 

Here's hoping he'd still have a bed for the night; with the addition of two guests, it looked like the couch was already taken.

 

\--

 

That wasn't the case after all. 

After dinner, Sheva and Josh announced their retiring to a hotel room just up the road, leaving the sofa bed for Chris and Piers. The latter hadn't brought up the kitchen incident again, huddling under the covers after settling everyone in their respective rooms with a chaste "night, Chris", falling asleep almost instantly. 

_There's no point being hurt; it was your fault for not saying anything._  Chris scolded himself, hugging the blanket to his chest with his back to Piers. Half of him wanted to wake his partner up, but he even now he still determined to wait for the right time.

The time he'd decided: the night before Christmas.

So instead, restless at himself and the whole situation, he dug out the little blue box from his jacket pocket and flipped it open. 

The ring was still there, thankfully. Platinum wasn't cheap, although he had to be thankful that Piers was - of course - a guy, and therefore hopefully not into flashy diamonds like Sheva. Claire had helped him pick it out; a small band of platinum, glinting up at him in the moonlight. 

He sighed. How awkward had it been earlier. A small part of him was mad at Josh for showing him up, but he dashed those irrational thoughts away quickly. It was no one's fault; he'd just been unlucky. And now Piers was under the impression... well, what exactly? That Chris wasn't serious enough about them? Didn't feel that way about him? That the prospect of something as committed as _marrigage_ was off the table for them?

All of which were the complete opposites of the truth. 

Oh well, he thought miserably. Hopefully Piers would forgive him soon. He snapped the lid shut; his mind - as had become a regular occurrence over the last few months - turning to thoughts on how it would play out, every possible scenario racing through his head as he lay back against the pillow.

After all this commotion, it would be a damn shame if Piers said no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to those of you who have left kudos already, I honestly didn't expect anything! Best birthday present I could have got <3


End file.
